The action-packed thriller, directed by Prithviraj Sukumaran and led by Malayalam superstar Mohanlal, grossed an estimated Rs220 million nett at the domestic box office on Day 1—making it the biggest-ever opening for a Malayalam film.

The Malayalam version alone contributed Rs200 million, while dubbed versions in Telugu, Tamil, Kannada, and Hindi brought in smaller shares.

According to India today, Globally, the makers reported advance bookings worth over Rs800 million, and with the extended Eid holiday weekend ahead, the film is poised for an impressive run.

I was up at 4:30 a.m.—not for a school run, mind you—but to catch the first day, first show of Empuraan in the UAE. And here’s what I thought.

When a movie opens with Lord Acton’s “Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely,” you know you’re about to watch a film that takes itself very seriously. And true to form, Prithviraj’s Empuraan dives headfirst into cinematic gravitas—with a side of globe-trotting spectacle.

This sequel traces the rise of Zayed Masood, played by Prithviraj himself, while bringing back Mohanlal as the enigmatic Stephen Nedumbally—now fully transformed into Khureshi Ab’Raam. Both characters are dressed for stylish war—designer five o’clock shadow, tactical vests, and enough weaponry to take on a small nation. And they don’t sit still. Iraq, Senegal, uncharted hotspots—you name it, they’ve probably blown it up.

But here’s the thing. For all its scale and swagger, it takes forever to get to the good stuff.

Everyone who dragged themselves to a 4:30 a.m. show wasn’t there for a geography lesson. They were there to see Mohanlal in full-on swag mode, preferably alongside a brooding Prithviraj. But that payoff takes nearly an hour. Until then, you’re spinning through global locations, secret cartels, and long-winded philosophical monologues.

Thankfully, the second half brings some much-needed emotional weight.

When the film slows down and returns to Kerala, it finally finds its core. The political face-off between Manju Warrier’s graceful Priyadarshini and her corrupted CM brother—played brilliantly by Tovino Thomas—is where Empuraan actually breathes. These scenes crackle with energy. It’s Kerala politics at its most personal—and most watchable.

Let’s not forget: Priyadarshini’s father founded a party rooted in secularism. But her brother trades in ideology for ambition, joining forces with a minority-hating, RSS-loving villain played with delicious menace by Abhimanyu Singh.

The Hindi-heavy portions and pan-India stylisation? They feel a bit like a calculated attempt to broaden the film’s reach. But honestly, Empuraan is at its best when it stays rooted in its Malayalam identity. Sharp lines, mundus, and morally murky power struggles? Yes, please.

And just when you’re enjoying those grounded, high-stakes family dynamics, boom—Mohanlal shows up. That forest scene, where he walks out in a crisp white mundu to save his sister? Pure cinematic gold. The kind of slow-motion drama that makes you sit up a little straighter in your seat.

But sadly, those moments are too few and far between.

The film’s emotional momentum is patchy. The clap-worthy scenes are scattered, not sustained. Tovino Thomas, though, steals the show—oozing charm and corruption as the suave but power-drunk CM.

And then there’s the recurring line:
"Who the hell are you?"
Khureshi Ab’Raam is asked this more than once.
And by the end of nearly three hours, I was still wondering the same thing.

His final declaration—“I’m not a Malabari. I’m a Hindustani”—is clearly meant to tug at patriotic heartstrings. But it lands more like a dramatic teaser line than a grounded, character-defining moment.

While L2: Empuraan delivers scale, ambition, and glossy action, it lacks the emotional glue to hold it all together. It’s a series of high-budget, globe-hopping set pieces wrapped in a philosophical package, but it never quite gets under your skin.

And just as you think it’s winding down, surprise—there’s more.
Part 3 is already being teased. And this time, the villains are in China. Of course. Why not?

The film ends with yet another brooding quote about power, corruption, and greed.
At this point, even the wisdom feels tired.

Just give us Mohanlal in a mundu with a killer one-liner, and we’ll call it a day.